


Half an inch

by EmSheshan



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Gen, Height Differences, Insecurity, M/M, One Shot, So is ringo, Spooning, pauls mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmSheshan/pseuds/EmSheshan
Summary: John was having an existential crisis. He was insecure about a lot of things, but this was something he never envisioned happening in his life.George was taller than him.
Relationships: George Harrison & John Lennon, George Harrison/John Lennon
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81





	Half an inch

**Author's Note:**

> Just a simple one-shot about John being insecure about his height.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

No fucking way.

There's no fucking way.

_ There's no way in hell! _

John was having an existential crisis. He was insecure about a lot of things, but this was something he never envisioned happening in his life.

George was taller than him.

He had no idea when George had eclipsed him in height, but he noticed when he was chatting with the lad. George's eyes sat above John's, and he found he had to tilt his head ever-so-slightly upwards to meet his gaze. George was babbling about his camera that he had been recently gifted (they all had received cameras) and all the photos he had taken. All John could do was nod as his mind was consumed by thoughts of George and being tall. How? When? Why? 

John had always been the tallest; he was the leader. Long John, they called him. He looked the meanest, yelled the loudest, and was the largest. His superiority in his band was unquestionable. Even when Paul had shown up, playing guitar far better than him, John was still in charge. To him, authority and size went hand in hand. 

And the fact that someone was taller than him didn't hurt, it was the fact that it was George. Brian was taller than him, as was Mal. Paul was bigger than John as well, but he didn't mind Paul. His mate had had a growth spurt, going from about the same height as John to a solid inch over John. An inch didn't seem like much at the time, but for some reason George was pissing him off. Between him, Paul, and George, he used to be the tallest, and now he was the shortest out of the three. 

He could accept Paul's inch over him because Paul was his intellectual counterpart. He respected Paul enough to let him be taller than him, as strange as that sounds. But George! George was puny, a shrimp compared to John. George was skinny, weak, and short. When John met him, the first thought running through his mind was  _ Where are his parents?  _ A little mean, but true. John was the cool leader of the band. George was the little kid who he let tag along out of pity. 

_ So why the fuck was George taller than him? _

"John, are you even listening?" George asked, impatience evident in his tone.

"You're still not finished?"

George scoffed and John had to fight the urge to yell at him.  _ Why are you so upset? You're not the one who has to look up to keep eye contact. _

"I was just wondering if you’d want to go out later, to take pictures."

John looked at George, more specifically, the way he clutched the camera. His thin fingers were curled around the gift tenderly, showing how much George valued it. 

“Well? Are you coming or not?” George asked again.

John would have agreed to go if he hadn’t wasn’t steamed about George’s height. “Go piss off,” John huffed.

George frowned a little, but not too much. Answers like these from John were to be expected. 

“A ‘no’ would have sufficed,” George mumbled before putting his prized camera down on the edge of the table. “ ‘M gonna take a piss first.”

“You don’t have to announce that to the whole room,” John said in a low tone. John watched as George’s form receded into the bathroom. He made sure to look at George’s shoes in particular, wondering if he was wearing heeled shoes. He wasn’t.

As George was busy, John turned towards his camera. God, he was so pissed. George was probably only half an inch above John, but it felt like a foot. He was legitimately having an inferiority crisis over half an inch, and when John got upset, he made sure everybody knew.

He couldn’t be inferior to George. He refused.

His hand fell onto the table and slowly drew closer to the camera. And then, after a minute, swiped the small device off the table like a cat.

“John, what the hell?!”

It was George, hands partially dried, brows upturned, and lips drawn into a snarl. John glanced down and saw the remains of the camera, broken bits of plastic and glass scattered across the hardwood floor. George looked up from his destroyed camera right at John.

“Geo—”

“Fuck you,” he hissed as he crouched down on the floor and surveyed the damage. He was trying to salvage the film from the wreckage. At his words, John shrunk, realizing that he had made a mistake.

“...You can have mine,” John finally said after George stood up again, roll of film in hand. Instead of responding, George left the room, pretending he didn’t hear John.

George marched out of the room, and John found himself quickly digging through his luggage to find his own camera in its case. He pulled it out and darted after George.

“Slow down, you bastard!” he yelled. 

“Piss off, John!”

“Look, I’m sorry, just take the damn camera!”

George finally stopped and forcefully took the camera out of John’s hands.

“I don’t know why I bother being around you,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” John said. “I was just… pissed off.”

“Yeah, you look like you need to take a shit or something,” George replied. From his joke-like response, John knew he wasn’t too mad. But as George’s words died down, John realized he had nothing to say. Nothing outside of  _ I’m jealous that you’re half an inch taller than me. _

God, he was an idiot.

“So, you said you were gonna go for a walk and take a few pictures?”

“Yeah, I was,” George said, still looking at the camera in his hands.

“And, ah, would you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“If I came along?” John asked in a small voice.

George didn’t immediately reply, and John feared he was going to be denied. “...As long as you don’t smash this one as well,” George finally said.

The two left the hotel room and took a small stroll around outside. George periodically stopped to take photos, and John now understood why he was so keen on leaving. It was sunset, and the land was lit up with brilliant shades of pink and orange. Occasionally, John found the camera aimed at him while George took his photos. He would have felt flattered, but George also took plenty of pictures of Paul and Ringo too.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” John asked after George took another picture of him.

“What does?”

“The fact that you can’t take a picture of yourself with that.”

“Well, I was thinking that since we all had cameras, we could all take photos of each other, but that was before you smashed mine,” he said with a smug look on his face. George then ran up to John and gave him the camera. “Take a few of me, then,” he said, and John obeyed. He was not a master photographer by any means, but the colors of the sky made everything look beautiful. And taking pictures of George standing against trees and in the middle of fields made him look great. The way the shots were composed drew your eye to George and it made him look better, taller.

_ Taller. _

Suddenly, any semblance of a good mood was gone. George was taller than him, bigger than him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“John?”

“Take your camera back,” John said.  _ Take it before I smash it upside your head. _

George took it, oblivious to John’s rage, most likely because the sun was almost gone and the world was darker. 

They meandered back to the hotel room, George primarily motivated out of hunger more than anything, while John sulked as he trailed behind. 

_ Maybe I should get heeled shoes,  _ he sullenly thought.

Upon entering their room, John stripped off his clothes and dived into one of the beds, tired of walking and ready to sleep. George carefully put John’s camera, now his, back in its case and safely in his luggage. 

“Thanks for coming,” George said. “I had a nice time.”

“I’m glad,” John huffed from the bed, but his voice was tense.

“Alright, what’re you so worked up about?”

“Nothing!” he shouted. “Nothing, alright?”

George raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He instead opted to get out of his clothes and into something more comfortable to sleep in. He crawled into bed with John, ignoring the fact that there were two beds, and sighed.

“Was it something I did?”

“No, George.”

“Was it something I said?”

“No.”

“But it has to do with me, though.”

“Ye- No!,” John shouted.

“I heard that! You’re mad at me!” George said, and his expression started to shift to one of worry and hurt.

“Not at you, but because of you.”

“Just tell me what’s wrong!”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“ ‘Cause it’s fucking stupid!” John snapped.

George stayed silent out of shock before continuing. “If something’s bothering you this much, then it’s not stupid.”

John sighed.

“It’s ‘cause you’re… taller than me,” he said, waiting for George to laugh at him. But no such response came.

“I’m taller than you?” he finally asked in response.

“Yes, George, you’re taller than me,” John spat out.

“I haven’t noticed.”

“It’s only half an inch.”

George shuffled.

“Are you telling me you broke me camera because of half an inch?”

“I told you it was stupid— ”

“No, I get it!” George hastily said. “ “Cause Paul’s half an inch taller than me, and he’s always holding it over me.”

“...Heh.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Holding it over you,” John said with a smirk at the unintentional pun.

George laughed at it too. “He just thinks cause he’s older and taller that he’s better, you know?”

John knew all too well. Paul’s ego could be overbearing at times and he had seen the way Paul would look down on George, both literally and metaphorically. “Doesn’t matter how tall he is, yeah? ‘Cause we both know he’s short where it really matters,” John said with a wink, and George giggled next to him. It was silly, but he went from being pissed George was taller than him to mutually bonding over the fact that they were both shorter than Paul.

“I’ll still tell the press that we’re all 5’11,” George said with a yawn. “At the very least, we’re not as short as Ringo.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” John said.

“Don’t you dare,” George mumbled as he buried himself under the covers. “You’re gonna hurt his feelings.”

“I’m never gonna understand how he made it through life that short.”

“Probably secretly has stilts stashed away somewhere. But I think it’s kinda nice,” George hummed.

“What, being short?”

“Yeah, makes it easier to cuddle with him. Like, you can sorta hold him…” George’s voice drifted. John looked over to see that George was firmly pressed up against John’s side, almost asleep. Wasn’t surprising, considering George was up late last night. And even though John was physically half an inch shorter than George, he found he didn’t mind as much anymore.

“Night, Geo,” he said.

“ ‘M not asleep,” George mumbled. “Jus’ resting me eyes.”

John adjusted his position so that he was laying down next to George and then asked out of curiosity, “So, what did you mean by cuddling?”

“Like this,” George said, and rolled John over so that his back was touching George’s chest. He then wrapped his arms around John’s midsection and tucked his head into the crook of John’s neck. They laid there for a moment, feeling the other’s body press into them.

“This is kinda nice,” John said.

“Yeah, and it wouldn’t work as well if I was shorter than you,” George replied. “This is why I like sleeping with Ringo.”

John merely hummed in response, leaning into George’s touch. Just laying there, in bed, made John realize something. 

He rather liked being half an inch shorter than George.


End file.
